


no chance, no way (i won't say it)

by whythebananas



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-05-13 08:42:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5702185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whythebananas/pseuds/whythebananas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Alex is tired of her mother constantly trying to set her up (and Kelley is a little shit). AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Jenny Morgan 3m ago  
_Mom wants to make sure you didn’t miss your connecting flight_

Dad 17m ago  
Missed Call & Voicemail

Mom 34m ago  
Missed Call & Voicemail

Alex is already regretting taking her phone off airplane mode the moment she steps off the plane. As she makes her way towards baggage claim, she unlocks her phone screen to listen to her voicemails.

_Ali Cat, if you hear this, give your mother a call, will you? She wants to know what time you’re getting in so she can put the lasagna in the oven._

Delete.

_Alex, honey, did you get to the airport okay? I hope you didn’t miss your flight, I know how much you like to sleep in. I’m making your favorite lasagna today. Everyone’s just waiting on you now. It’ll be so great to have all my girls under one roof again! Oh, and tell Kelley she is more than welcome to join us, she’s practically —_

“— a part of our family,” Alex mutters as she deletes that voicemail as well.

She’s pulling her suitcase off the carousel when her phone goes off again.

Kelley O’Hara  
iMessage  
_Outside. Don’t want to pay for parking. Offered to pick you up, you’re welcome btw. :P_

_Hurry up, Mama Morgan is making her famous lasagna and I haven’t eaten all day._

_Don’t let me get a ticket in your mom’s car. Don’t wanna lose brownie points with the Morgan clan._

_Seriously, airport lady is side eyeing me._

Alex grins, typing a quick response before heading for the exit, dragging her suitcase behind her.

 _Heading out.  
_ Delivered

 

It doesn’t take long for her to spot the familiar silver Lexus SUV. The passenger window rolls down as she approaches, revealing one grinning Kelley Maureen O’Hara.

“Get in, loser. We’re going shopping.”

“You’re such a dork,” Alex says with a chuckle, going around the car to load the trunk. Kelley stays in the car, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of a catchy summer hit flowing from the speakers. Alex thinks it might be Demi Lovato, but she’s not sure. She can’t remember the last time she listened to the radio (probably around the time she sold her car).

Kelley dutifully waits until Alex is in the car with her seatbelt buckled before she drives away from the curb, throwing a peace sign at the security guard glaring at them.

“Thanks for picking me up,” Alex says as they get on the freeway. She whips out her phone and sends a quick text to Jenny in case her mother decides to send out a search party for her.

“I figure you’d rather see my pretty face instead.”

“Your ugly mug, you mean.”

“Whatever, you miss my face.” Kelley looks over her shoulder before switching over to the fast lane.

“You were just in New York last month. I _just_ saw your face.”

“You’re right, you’re right. Unlike your parents, who haven’t seen you since Christmas.”

“Don’t start with me, Kel.”

Alex rolls her eyes even if Kelley can’t see her face. She pulls down the visor to check that her makeup is still intact from when she reapplied it on the plane. Hopefully, that’ll give her mother one less thing to gripe about.

“Kidding, kidding. I only said that so I could tell Mrs. M that I’ve done my part in trying to get you to come home more.”

“Suck up.”

“Hey, the woman is like the next Paula Deen, minus the racist shit. Gotta make sure there’s always a placemat for me at the Morgan table.”

Alex scoffs.

“Oh please, I’m pretty sure she loves you more than she loves me. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to adopt you all these years.”

“False. I don’t see her as invested in _my_ eternal happiness.”

“Shit,” Alex says, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she snaps the visor back. “She hasn’t invited anyone this time, has she?”

“Nope, Mrs. M seems pretty excited that you’re all in town this weekend, so it’s supposed to be purely a family affair. Of course, your mom thinks half the town is family, but hey, no _special_ guests that I’ve heard about at least.”

“Oh, thank God.”

 

+

 

Alex nearly chokes on her lasagna when her mother tells her she has someone _very special_ she’d like her to meet, and _oh, why don’t you wear the blue sundress I hung up in your room on Sunday — it’ll look so lovely on you!_

Alex glares at Kelley from across the table.

(Kelley pretends not to notice.)

 

+

 

“I totally thought I was safe this time! I mean, fuck. I came out to her last Christmas!” Alex rants later when they’re both hanging out in her room. “I just — where did my mother even find a woman to set me up with? What, did she stake out the local LGBT support group or something? I mean, does she even know where —”

Alex stops suddenly, narrowing her eyes at her best friend. Kelley only fidgets with her hands when she’s nervous about something, usually when she’s done something wrong.

“Kel.”

“Yes?”

“Kelley.”

“...I might have let slip about that date you went on a few weeks ago with that guy from work.”

Alex lets out a loud sigh.

“So my mom knows I’m bi?”

“Your mom knows you’re bi.”

“Kelley!”

“What? She distracted me with snickerdoodles, okay?”

“I really need a new best friend.”

 

+

 

Alex wakes up at six the next day to go for a run at the beach.

If there’s one thing she misses about being home, it’s having the beach as her backyard. She has more fond memories of the beach than anywhere else in this town, memories of sandcastles built with her sisters, seashells collected with her mom, bike lessons with her dad on the boardwalk, and later, tanning sessions with friends and picnics with boyfriends.

But Alex’s favorite thing about the beach is being there right around sunrise when the town is still asleep and no one is looking for her, so it’s where she goes. The jog is easy and familiar despite her barely getting five hours of sleep, and she even gets a good Instagram picture from it ( _Good morning #bestcoast #nofilter_ ) _._

The beach is mostly empty, save for a couple of surfers out in the water and one other person on the shore. Too bad that other person is also sitting in Alex’s favorite spot, which also happens to be the only log on this stretch of the beach.

Alex briefly contemplates sitting somewhere else or leaving, but she didn’t bring a towel and is no mood to get sand all over her shorts, and heading home would mean that she’ll have to start her day, and yeah, she’s not ready for that yet.

The woman seems to be engrossed in a book, but she’s also wearing a rash guard. Plus, there's a surfboard propped up in the sand next to her, so Alex figures it can’t be long before the call of the waves becomes too strong. She checks the time on her phone, and _oh what the hell,_ she’s got some time to wait this woman out.

But she’s done with her stretches fifteen minutes later and the woman has yet to make any move to get up. Alex feels her tiredness creeping in again, and unfortunately, a tired Alex Morgan makes a cranky Alex Morgan. (And a tired Alex Morgan who has to deal with all the different personalities in her family for the entirety of a long weekend makes an even crankier Alex Morgan.)

Upon walking closer she realizes that the woman has a book on her lap (a well-worn Bible, Alex notices when she gets close enough), and _ugh, why would you dress up to surf and spend the time reading!?_

“Hey,” Alex says, clearing her throat awkwardly.

The woman looks up in surprise, and _okay, she’s attractive (really attractive)_ , but _priorities, Morgan_.

“Sup?”

“Just noticing that you’re missing out on the good waves," Alex hints, stuffing her hands in the pockets of her zip up hoodie. Just because she’s cranky doesn’t mean she can’t be civil. She’s a mature adult, after all.

“The surf can wait,” the woman replies with a shrug, smiling entirely too wide for someone awake this early on a Saturday. “There’s always time for God, you know?”

Alex most definitely does not know (despite years and years of Sunday school), but she nods anyway, because she’s really not in the mood to be preached to. She waits a few seconds before trying again.

“You uh, you should really hit up those waves.”

The woman brings a hand up to her forehead briefly to shield the sun’s rays so she can look at Alex properly.

“Are you trying to watch me surf? Because I'm not a pro or anything."

“You’re kind of in my spot," Alex confesses. It sounds childish, but whatever. She would have come up with something better if she weren't so sleep deprived.

The woman looks down at the log and back at her, a smirk slowly sliding in place.

“What makes it your spot?"

“It just is,” Alex argues, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

_Whoops, there goes ‘mature adult’._

“I don’t see your name on it."

 _Aha_! Alex’s mind yells, and she climbs over behind the woman, gesturing for her to lean down towards the bottom where she’d once carved her initials.

“Oh, but it does. See? It says APM on here. Alexandra Patricia Morgan.”

“And you’re Alexandra Patricia Morgan?” There’s a weird look on the woman’s face as she says Alex’s name that makes Alex wonder for a split second if she’s supposed to recognize the woman, but _nah_ , she’s pretty sure she knew everyone who grew up around here — the perks (sometimes) of growing up in a small town.

“I go by Alex, but yes.”

“I don’t know. You could be making that up. Do you have an ID on you?”

"I’m not showing you my ID,” Alex protests, because this woman is a complete stranger (albeit a very cute one).

(A very cute but _annoying_ one.)

“The P is looking more like a D to me now.”

“That’s totally a P!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll bite. So if APM is you, who’s AJM?” The woman points under Alex’s initials, where a _\+ AJM_ is also carved.

“Alexander James McDonnell,” Alex answers with a casual wave. “High school boyfriend. Irrelevant.”

The woman wrinkles her nose.

“You dated another Alex?”

“It was high school! And he went by AJ.”

“Right.”

“Yup,” Alex says, “so this is my log.”

“And the other Alex’s apparently.”

“AJ. And he’s not here, so.”

“Well, we can share.”

The smirk stays. Alex tries not to let it get to her.

“I don’t really share.”

“I bet the other Alex is a sharer.”

“More like he expected me to share him,” Alex mumbles under her breath. This is getting ridiculous, and she’s not sure that — she checks the time on her phone again — twenty minutes of alone time is worth all this hassle (even if she is a big fan of winning arguments).

“C’mon, I’ll be really quiet,” the woman offers, her head cocked slightly to one side in a way that’s too charming to not know the effect she’s having on Alex’s poor bisexual tendencies. “I mean, technically, I got here first, but lucky for you, I’m a sharer.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Alex stomps over to the other side, taking a seat as far away from the woman as possible. True to her word, the woman goes back to her Bible and doesn’t attempt any conversation. Alex tries to mind her own business, but curiosity gets the best of her and she finds herself sneaking glances to her left.

“You should really work on that staring thing. Some people find it creepy, you know.”

“What? I’m not —”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind.”

Alex huffs, looking away.

“I wasn’t looking,” she insists, even if she knows she’s been caught.

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Alex continues to stare pointedly at a particularly interesting twig next to her foot. Thankfully, they settle into another silence — this time without Alex looking because there’s no way she’s letting the other woman have the satisfaction of catching her again.

It’s nice. The waves have always had a calming effect on her, and the light breeze feels great against her hair. Her irritation begins to ebb away, but unfortunately, a slight twinge of guilt begins to settle in its place.

 _Okay_ , maybe she _was_ being a little difficult. It’s not the woman’s fault that being home is always a little stressful for her.

She hears the sound of a book snapping shut, and when she turns to find the woman putting her book away, she panics momentarily.

“Wait,” she says, not wanting to let the woman leave without extending some sort of olive branch, “Sorry, I’m usually not this much of a brat. I’ve been a little on edge.”

She offers a smile, one that the woman returns easily.

“It’s cool.” The woman shrugs. “I did steal your spot.”

“It’s not really _my_ spot,” Alex says, not quite sure why she’s still arguing.

“Sure it is. It has your initials and everything.”

“Well, you did get here first. So uh, thanks for sharing.”

“I was about to hit the waves when you came over, anyway.” There’s another shrug and another smile before she stands up - Alex tries not to stare, because _legs —_  and walks over to grab her surfboard. “But when a pretty girl shows up...”

Alex feels her face grow hot.

“...you annoy the shit out of her?”

_Jesus Christ, Morgan._

“I was thinking more along the lines of — you keep talking to her. Sorry, I had to try, even if it seemed like I was barking up the wrong tree — no pun intended. But hey, I’ll leave you to your log, girl Alex.”

The woman gives a small wave and turns to walk away, and Alex waits all of two seconds before —

“You’re not!” she calls out, and the woman turns questioningly, and just — _ugh, what happened to your game, Morgan?_ “I mean — depends on who’s doing the barking... I guess?”

_Probably smart enough to stay in New York._

The woman looks towards the waves, biting her lip as if weighing her options. Then she sets her surfboard down and walks back to the log.

“TPH,” she says so quickly, Alex almost misses it. “Tobin Powell Heath.”

“Nice to meet you, TPH,” Alex says, taking the offered hand.

“Likewise, APM.”

They grin stupidly at each other, and Alex searches her brain for something witty to say — anything, really, but —

“I uh, I should let you get to those waves.”

_So. Fucking. Smooth. If only some of this sand were quicksand._

“Actually, I was looking for a place to sit and hang out for a bit. Got anywhere in mind?”

Alex grins.

“Well, I’ve got this perfect spot. And lucky for you, I don’t mind sharing…”

_Pfft. Who needs smooth? Not Alex Morgan._

 

+

 

Tobin must have meant it when she said that the surf could wait.

Alex definitely doesn’t complain.

(Anymore.)

 

+

 

"There you are."

As soon as Alex steps through the door, her mom is there to intercept her. They have a full schedule apparently with a bunch of errands lined up before some one-on-one mother-daughter quality time.

Alex is dreading all of it by the time her mother finishes listing all of it. She knows her mother will be taking advantage of this time to hound her about her life in New York — _Are you keeping your apartment clean? Make sure you vacuum under the couch. I know how much you like to cut corners. Is your work keeping you busy? Do you still hang out with that coworker Sydney? She seemed like such a sweetheart over the phone._ It never takes long before the subject of her love life (or lack of one) is brought up. She knows it will be ten times worse with Jeri’s recent engagement and Jenny’s first wedding anniversary coming up.

She spends a good amount of the day texting SOS messages to Kelley, who texts back a sympathetic message before sending pictures of her day hiking with her siblings.

 _Worst friend ever_ , Alex thinks. _Asshole’s only an honorary Morgan when her stomach is involved._

 

+

 

By the end of the day, she’s tired and in desperate need for a drink or two (or five). She checks the time on her phone, wondering if Kelley is back from her outing. Only one way to find out.

_I need a drink. O’Reilly’s tonight?_

_Tempting, but no can do. I’ve got plans tonight._

_Plans that don’t involve me?_

_I have other friends, you know._

Alex makes a noise of disbelief, as if _how dare Kelley have other friends in this town they both grew up in?_

She scrolls through her contacts, but she hasn’t really tried to keep in touch with anyone from high school other than Kelley, and truth be told she isn’t really in the mood to play catch up. Last she checked — because what else is Facebook for? — everyone from their class is busy getting engaged or married or popping out babies.

She’s about to lock her screen and turn in for the night when her eyes zero in on a name in the T section. Her finger hovers over the name for a few seconds, and she glances at the time again before deciding, _oh, what the hell._

 _I know Jesus drank wine, but how do you feel about tequila shots?  
_ Delivered

 

+

 

Tobin doesn’t mind tequila shots, Alex learns.

And dancing.

(Well, the tequila shots certainly helped her not mind that part. It’s some time after the fourth — no, definitely the fifth — that Alex manages to drag her to the swanky new bar with a dance floor two doors down from O’Reilly’s.)

 

+

 

Tobin is a good kisser.

 

+

 

Tobin is a _really_ good kisser.

 

+

 

It’s five in the morning when Alex finds herself climbing the tree right outside her bedroom window, and _oof_ , she’s getting too old to be sneaking around like that. She sends a quiet thanks to her mother for not letting the city cut down the tree a few years back.

There’s a big sigh of relief when she’s greeted with a quiet house. The only thing worse than still having to do a walk of shame at the age twenty-four is having her mother catch her doing it.

She climbs into bed and rolls around a bit, stretching her back until she hears the satisfying pops before snuggling under her duvet. _Nothing beats your own bed_ , she thinks, _especially if it’s a queen-sized bed_. The bed she’d vacated an hour ago was a single, and single beds are called single beds for a reason.

(Said single bed did come with an attractive brunette with a cute bed head, but Alex has enough fingers to count the number of hours she’s slept the past two nights and she’s definitely not in college anymore.)

 _Finally, sleep_ , she thinks, drifting off with a smile on her face.

Too bad her alarm rings less than an hour later, followed by a knock on her door.

“Al, time for church!”

_Fuck._

 

+

 

Alex is on edge (and hungover) during service. Sometime between all the tequila shots last night she’d forgotten about the guy she is supposed to meet today. But she remembers now, and this pounding headache isn’t helping her come up with a good enough avoidance plan.

So far, she’s only figured out step one, which, basically, is to _figure out who this fucker is in the first place_. (A hungover Alex Morgan also makes a cranky Alex Morgan.) She knows he’s in the same room, but her mother always insists on sitting in one of the pews up front so she can’t really keep a lookout on who she should steer clear of later.

At least there’s some eye candy, because Tobin is on bass with the worship band today. She’s not sure how Tobin manages to look so upbeat given that she’d matched her shot for shot the previous night. (She’s probably one of those assholes who rarely get hangovers.)

Alex tries really hard not to stare too much because images of the previous night are still at the forefront of her mind, and _for fuck’s sake, Morgan, you’re at church. The pastor is literally ten feet away. You are so going to hell for this._

Alex bolts out of her seat right after the benediction, dragging Kelley by the arm. The Morgans usually invite friends and family over for brunch after service, but if she positions herself correctly the next couple of hours (and uses Kelley as a buffer), she just might get through it without any grief.

Not the most solid plan, but it’s a plan.

As they wait for their families at the parking lot, Alex scans the crowd slowly exiting the church, zeroing in on the first unfamiliar face she sees, and _huh,_ not bad. Kinda cute actually. Not really her type, though — too much gel.

She nudges Kelley.

“Who’s that?”

When there’s no response, Alex turns to find Kelley typing furiously on her phone. Alex nudges her again, because _damn it_ , this is important.  

“Kel.”

“What,” Kelley responds, eyes still glued to her screen.

“ _Kelley._ ” Getting impatient, Alex sticks her hand right in front of Kelley’s face.

“Huh?” Kelley looks up, attention finally diverted.

“Over there,” Alex says, pointing as discreetly as possible, “Maroon button up, sleeves rolled up.”

“Oh, that’s Serv,” Kelley responds once she figures out who Alex was referring to.

Alex waits for Kelley to elaborate, but Kelley’s attention is back on her phone. Frustrated, she grabs the phone, prompting a “Hey! Give it back!” She holds it just out of the shorter girl’s reach, determined to get her answer.

“Kelley.”

“What? He’s the new youth soccer coach that the single mothers like to drool over. What’s it to you?”

“Is he invited to brunch?” The phone buzzes in Alex’s hand, prompting Kelley to attempt to reach for it again.

“Dude, I don’t know. I got in a day before you did. Ask Jeri.”

Alex huffs at the suggestion. There is no way she can ask her sister without having to answer questions about why she wants to know, and her sisters always take their mother’s side anyway. Kelley’s usually the only one on her side (when she’s not busy being a little shit).

“Can I have my phone back now?”

“Fine.”

Alex relents. For now.

The phone buzzes again as she’s about to hand it back to Kelley, and she glances down at it instinctively, forgetting that it’s not her own phone. Kelley quickly snatches her phone away, but Alex’s eyes bulge when she catches some of the words on display.

“What the fuck?” Alex hisses, and the next question comes tumbling out even if she’s seen enough to know the answer. “Were you _sexting_ someone at church?”

“...Maybe?”

“Oh God, I need to bleach my eyeballs right now…”

 

+

 

 _If I’m going to hell, at least Kelley will be right there beside me_ , Alex thinks during the drive back to her house.

 

+

 

Morgan Sunday Brunch is a busy affair as usual. The O’Haras bring a casserole and a few young couples arrive with their children and some side dishes and desserts.

Alex stands next to Kelley, who _is still texting_ without an ounce of shame. She pretends to keep busy, pouring apple juice into paper cups for the children present and trying not to spill on the blue sundress she’s wearing.

“Hey.”

_Oh no._

“Hey,” Alex mumbles, looking up, and _yup, it’s —_

“I’m Servando. Serv, really.”

“Alex,” she says, plastering on a smile and shaking the offered hand. Her mama raised her to be polite.

“It’s great to finally meet you. Thanks for having us all here.”

“It’s my parents, really,” Alex says with a shrug. “I’m just here for the food too.”

“Well, the food is always great, but the company’s even better.”

_Oh no._

Alex turns to find that Kelley has disappeared.

_Fucking traitor._

“Your mom tells me you live in New York?”

“Mhmm,” Alex responds, struggling to maintain eye contact as her mind searches for an escape plan. Her mama didn’t raise her to be _that_ polite.

“So what do you do?”

“I work at a PR firm…”

 

+

 

 _Finally_ , Alex thinks as she manages to sneak into an empty kitchen, _freedom_.

Freedom, unfortunately, lasts all of five minutes until —

“There you are! What are you doing hiding in here?”

“I uh, I was just looking for… a snack.”

“No snacking!” Her mom swats her hand away as if she really had been snacking and not idly drumming her fingers against the countertop. “You’ll wait to eat like everyone else. And please don’t get anything on that sundress of yours. There’s someone I want you to meet after your father says grace.”

As she lets her mother lead her out of the kitchen by the elbow, Alex briefly wonders if she should have spilled something on her stupid sundress on purpose, but knowing her mother, there’s probably a spare hanging in her closet somewhere. Pamela Morgan is a very determined woman.

She sighs.

“I already met Serv, Mom.”

“That’s nice, honey,” her mom responds distractedly, catching a toppling vase with one hand as a little boy runs by. “Serv’s a very nice man.”

“Yeah, he’s nice.”

Her mom doesn’t respond, busying herself fixing the flowers in the vase, and Alex looks around, spotting Kelley a few feet away stealing a cookie from one of the plates.

 _Save me_ , she mouths, but Kelley responds with a thumbs up before stuffing the oversized cookie into her mouth and skipping away.

“Does this mean I don’t have to be introduced anymore?” Alex tries. Hopes.

“What’s that honey?” Her mother finally turns her attention back to her.

“I’ve already met Serv.”

“Yes, you told me.” Her mother furrows her brows for a split second before her face lights up in understanding. “Oh! You thought - well, Serv’s a very attractive young man, but he has a fiancee in Seattle. I’m sorry, honey, were you interested in him?”

“I… no, not at all.”

Alex is relieved, but also very confused. There’s no one else here that’s single (or seemingly single).

Her mom leans in, lowering her voice.

“Good. Just between you and me, I’ve caught him snoozing during Pastor Jacob’s sermons.”

“Then who —”

But she doesn’t get to finish her question because her father clears his throat and the room falls silent. Once grace has been said, someone calls for her mother and Alex uses that distraction to slip away.

She’s curious, but not _that_ curious.

 

+

 

The rest of brunch is fairly uneventful. Alex’s parents are too busy entertaining guests, and Kelley spends a majority of it being grilled by Mama O’Hara about her own lack of dating prospects. Alex must be the only person who knows about her best friend’s new sexting partner, then.

 _Or is it new?_ Alex muses, making a note to be a better friend and grilling Kelley for details later. Details about this mystery person, like who they are and how and when they met and the status of their… arrangement or whatever it is. As much as Alex wants to know more, there are also things she now wishes she knows _less_ of.

(Like what Kelley can do with her tongue, apparently.)

Alex almost feels bad, but Mama O’Hara seems way more laid back than Mama Morgan at least, so if the deer-in-headlights look Kelley flashed towards Alex’s direction was a cry for help or sympathy, she’s not getting much (or any, really). Kelley’s a big girl. She can handle it.

Alex makes sure to pause between bites to say a mini-prayer that her mother doesn’t catch wind of that conversation and offer her own matchmaking services. _There_ , she’s done her part. That’ll earn her enough best friend karma points for the day.

But yeah, brunch is fairly uneventful — on Alex’s part. She almost prays for something interesting to happen, but _nah_. Uneventful is a good thing when it comes to Morgan Family Brunches.

Good turns better towards the end of brunch. Better comes in the form of one Tobin Powell Heath, who walks in with a tray of popsicles.

Alex strides over, lingering a few feet away from the woman who suddenly finds herself surrounded by a horde of tiny grabby hands. A giggle escapes her throat when Tobin tries (keyword: _tries_ ) to put on a serious face, because _Evan, don’t shove Casey, I made enough for everyone_ , and Tobin glances her way just long enough to give her a wink before crouching down to offer her treats.

It’s a shitty wink that looks more like a twitch, and Alex feels herself marveling at how this dork is the same person that made her toes curl just the night before.

But she doesn’t marvel for long, because soon enough, the tray is empty and placed on top of a table nearby, and then Tobin is standing in front of her, last popsicle in hand and a smile on her face.

“Hey.”

It takes Alex a few seconds to realize that the popsicle is being offered to her.

If anyone were watching this exchange, she’ll say it’s because she didn’t see the popsicle. It definitely wasn’t because she was too busy thinking about how Tobin is smiling at her differently from the way she smiled at the kids. It’s close-lipped, curling a bit more on one side playfully like she knows a secret.

(If said secret is what Alex looks like naked and where all her weak spots are, then yeah, Tobin might know a little something. Or a lot.)

“Hey,” Alex echoes, suddenly feeling a little shy as she takes the proffered dessert. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Isn’t everyone invited to Morgan Family Brunch?”

Alex nods dumbly, because everyone _was_ invited, but she was so busy trying to figure out the attendees to avoid to realize that someone she actually wants to see might be there too.

“A whole family of sharers. Who woulda thunk?”

Alex relaxes, because banter, she can do. In fact, she can do better.

She brings the popsicle to her mouth, catching the side with her lips before some of the melted part drips onto her hand. Keeping her eyes trained on Tobin, she sucks on it for a second before taking a slow lick up one side. Then she offers it back, grinning when Tobin’s gaze follows the popsicle.

“Want some?”

“Huh?”

Tobin’s eyes snap back up to meet hers, and Alex raises an eyebrow.

“I’m sharing,” Alex explains, eyes playful. Challenging.

Tobin noticeably swallows hard at that. She’s about to reach for the popsicle when —

“There you are!”

Alex almost drops the popsicle at the sound of her mother’s voice.

 _Sorry_ , she mouths to Tobin as her mother makes her way over to them.

“Hey, Mom,” she grumbles, taking another lick of her popsicle — this time not suggestively.

(It’s not as fun.)

“Alexandra, a popsicle is not ladylike,” her mother chastises, plucking it out of Alex’s hand and wrapping it with a napkin she pulls out of nowhere before tossing it into one of the trashbags. “You’re going to ruin your dress.”

Alex sends Tobin a quick glance, unsure if what she’s trying to convey wordlessly is _sorry for the next five minutes (hopefully just five minutes) of your life_ or _run for your life before my mother sees you_.

But Tobin only smiles.

“Hey Mrs. Morgan.”

Alex watches, confused, as her mother pulls Tobin into a hug. Pamela Morgan’s always been an excellent hostess, but she’s not usually this… warm.

“Tobin!” Her mother exclaims once they separate. “I’m so thrilled you could make it!”

“I couldn’t pass up a free meal,” Tobin jokes, and Alex swears she’s only ever seen Kelley be that comfortable in her mother’s presence. “Especially when it’s your cooking.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” her mother says, looking absolutely pleased. “But what did I tell you about calling me Mrs. Morgan?”

“Sorry Mrs. — I mean Pam.”

_What the fuck? Even Dad calls her Pamela._

Alex clears her throat then, because this is getting borderline weird. She should have known her mother would have met Tobin already — Pamela Morgan prides herself in being the first person to welcome anyone new in town with her famous lasagna — but _still_. She hadn’t realized that the woman she’d slept with was her mother’s new BFF or something.

“Oh, where are my manners!” Her mother brings a hand to her chest, suddenly remembering that her daughter was next to her ( _Gee, thanks, Mom_ ). “Tobin, this is my youngest daughter, Alex. Alex, this is Tobin Heath.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Alex,” Tobin says, and Alex narrows her eyes at the extended hand and cheeky smile.

“Alex,” her mom says, and Alex pretends she doesn’t notice the warning tone under her mother’s smile.

“It’s okay, Pam. We’ve been… well-acquainted.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Alex mumbles, but her mother ignores her.

“Oh, how lovely! I just _knew_ you’d get along. Doesn’t her sundress bring out her eyes, Tobin?”

Alex flushes as Tobin’s eyes roam up her body a little too slowly, and _Oh my God, Tobin, my mother is right HERE._

“Sure does.”

Alex is going to kill Tobin once her mother leaves.

“You hear that, Alex? A mother always knows.”

The smug tone in her mother’s voice is obvious—- the woman sure loves being told she’s right — and Alex tries to fight the urge to scowl.

(She fails.)

 _Scowling is unladylike, Alexandra_ , she mocks in her head.

“Anyhow,” her mother continues, “I’m glad she listens to me every now and then. I’ve told her many times — just because you like the ladies doesn’t mean you have to stop dressing like one!”

Alex changed her mind. She’s going to kill them both.

“I’m sure Alex looks great in whatever she wears,” Tobin says helpfully, somewhat redeeming herself in Alex’s book. “I sure feel underdressed next to you two.”

“Oh, of course she does! I’m just saying — oh, Alexandra, please don’t frown, it’s unladylike. You look very lovely as well, Tobin.”

Alex snorts. Pamela Morgan referring to an outfit that comprises of a henley shirt and skinny jeans and Vans sneakers as _lovely_? If she weren’t so far from the nearest window, she’d stick her head out and look for flying pigs right about now.

“Thank you, Pam.”

“You’re welcome! What a polite young lady. That’s extremely rare these days. How delightful!”

Wow, her mother is full of compliments today, even by her standards.

Really, she shouldn’t be complaining — as weird as this conversation has been, at least it’s distracting her mother from dragging her off to meet her supposed prospective Mr. Right.

Still, her mother only ever lays it on this thick when — _wait a minute._

_Oh._

_Oh no._

She turns to study her mother, taking in the barely concealed glee with a newfound suspicion.

“Mom,” she starts, and she can’t believe she’s actually about to ask what she’s about to ask. “Isn’t there someone you wanted me to meet?”

“There _was_.” Her mother pauses — for dramatic effect or to rein in her own excitement, Alex isn’t sure. “But I hear the two of you are already _well-acquainted_.”

 

+

 

 _Well, fuck_.

Alex should’ve known that nothing good comes out of Morgan Family Brunch.

_Alex Morgan, you useless bisexual._

 

+

 

Kelley O’Hara  
_Dude! I just spoke with Jeri._

_Holy shit, I can’t believe your mom actually found you a lady gay!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deleted scene:
> 
> “So… that was your mom.”
> 
> “Don’t you mean Pam?” Alex mutters, annoyed. Then, curious, “Did you meet at church?”
> 
> “The supermarket, actually. Grams wasn’t very specific with her list and there were too many types of potatoes on display, so she helped me out. Then we bonded over avocados. She’s cool.”
> 
> “...Right.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooo sorry for the long wait!
> 
> So... 
> 
> Good news: here's an update. Bad news: I've decided to split the rest into 2 chapters to not rush the rest of the story, and chapter 3 might take a while.

“This isn’t a date.”

It’s the first thing Alex says when Tobin slides into the barstool next to her.

“Okay.”

“Seriously, I’m not dating you,” she emphasizes after Mike the bartender gets their order — _two IPAs on tap, a basket of fries to share_.

“Okay,” Tobin says again, and Alex can’t tell if she wants to kiss or smack the smirk off of her face.

(Apparently it’s the former, because Alex finds herself sneaking out of Tobin’s apartment early next morning.)

 

+

 

It’s a little irrational, Alex knows, to refuse to date someone simply because her mom wants her to date them. In her defense, her mom doesn’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to picking people she’d like her daughter to date.

Apparently, Pamela Morgan has made it her personal mission to introduce her youngest daughter to as many _handsome, nice, eligible gentlemen_ as possible whenever Alex comes home for a visit. They’re all nice, Alex will give her that. And good looking. But Alex hates that her mother thinks she needs to be set up at all.

(Kelley had once asked her why she continues to go on these dates if she dreads them so much.

“How does one say no to Pamela Morgan?” Alex had asked in response, taking a long swig from the bottle of red wine they’d been passing back and forth — to which the two best friends looked at each other and shrugged simultaneously, muttering _you don’t_ before bursting into giggles.)

It’s ridiculous that her mother thinks she’ll die an old maid just because she’s still single at the _ripe old age of twenty-four_. Her sisters met their husbands in college and their parents had been high school sweethearts, so apparently Alex needs all the help she can get now that she’s done with school.

Alex wants to believe that they’ll make great stories in a few years. Like when Brad — _who’s back from the Navy and oh, he’s so polite! And a man in uniform!_ — decided that they weren’t compatible because she’s a Cancer and he’s a Capricorn. Or when Mike the salesman - _He cleans up so nicely!_ — actually gave her a full sales pitch on why they would be great together. Or when Matt — _Remember little Matty across the street? He’s turned into quite the looker, hasn’t he?_ — came out to her halfway through dinner and they ended up meeting up with his boyfriend and dancing the night away at a local gay club.

But for now, the number of awkward dates she’s had to sit through with sons of her mother’s church friends (or sons of friends from her book club, or country club, or even the son of the lady that does her parents’ taxes) is a little embarrassing.

So yeah, she’s uninterested by default, even if it’s a little irrational.

(She also doesn’t visit home too often anymore.)

She never expected that she could actually _like_ someone her mom tried to set her up with. Then again, she never expected her mom to set her up with a woman, either, so it really is just a bunch of fucking surprises all around.

It doesn’t matter anyway, because she’s not dating Tobin Heath.

At all.

 

+

 

“I’m gay,” Alex had told her mother during one of her last visits back home.

She’s really bi, but she figures _hey, what are the odds that her mom would know any queer (and Christian — this is very important to Pamela Morgan) women in town?_

Enter Tobin fucking Heath.

Tobin, who had met Alex’s mother when she’d temporarily moved to town to care for her ailing grandmother. Tobin, who not only goes to church, but volunteers with the youth ministry and sometimes steps in for the bassist on the worship team when needed.

Tobin is polite, and smart, and single. And annoyingly, Tobin is also funny. And cute.

And a good kisser.

(In her defense, Alex found out about the last one before she even knew that it was Tobin she was being set up with.)

 

+

 

In hindsight, Alex feels like she should have given her mother more credit. Pamela Morgan is a great mom, even if she is a little pushy.

(Read: _very_ pushy.)

Alex had, after all, dropped the bomb in the middle of a Morgan Sunday Brunch, and her mom hadn’t even batted an eyelash before sweeping her up in a tight hug, and _oh honey, I wish you would’ve told me sooner!_ and proceeded to tell their guests that her _baby girl_ was _going to make some woman so happy one day_.

(Of course, Alex also caught her mom telling everyone that she should’ve known much sooner because _why else would Alex have turned down all those wonderful young men_ she’d set her up with, and she had to convince her mom that _no,_ she and Kelley never dated ( _and never will, sorry Mama Morgan_ , Kelley had jumped in), and _no,_ she never dated _the cute blonde with all the tattoos_ who came home with her for Thanksgiving that one summer in college.)

 

+

 

So she doesn’t exactly stop texting Tobin when she goes back to New York.

So she meets up with Tobin once Tobin moves back to the east coast.

So fucking what.

(Basking Ridge is an hour away at most, and Tobin ends up moving in with her sister Perry in Brooklyn anyway, so it’s not like they’re going out of their way for each other or anything.)

 

+

 

Kelley thinks this whole thing is stupid.

And she never misses a chance to express that when they catch up over Skype.

“Don’t tell Mama Morgan I said this, but who cares what she thinks? I just - what even is this? Is this you making up for not having your rebellious teenage years? If you like Tobin, date Tobin.”

“I. Don’t. Like. Tobin.” Alex whispers, looking above her computer screen at Tobin’s closed bedroom door and straining her ear to make sure that Tobin’s still asleep. “She’s just… good at what she does.”

Kelley makes a disgusted face at that but thankfully drops the subject.

When Alex spends the latter half of their conversation busying herself making breakfast in Tobin’s kitchen, Kelley doesn’t comment on how at ease Alex looks and how Alex knew just where everything was. And when a bleary eyed Tobin stumbles into the camera frame, she definitely does not comment on how Alex simply handed Tobin the second mug of coffee and how she swats Tobin’s hand away two minutes later when Tobin tries to steal a strip of bacon from her plate.

She disconnects the Skype call instead, because Alex seems to have forgotten about Kelley and is getting overly flirty with Tobin, and Kelley definitely does not need to see proof of how good Tobin is at _what she does_.

 _I don’t like her, my ass_ , Kelley thinks.

 

+

 

Okay, so maybe Alex is dating Tobin Heath a little bit.

She can only convince herself for so long now that there’s only no longer any sneaking out _(it’s too late to drive_ and _I don’t want you driving in that snow_ and _sorry, I must have fallen asleep longer than I thought)_ — especially since there are now weekend bags involved, and that no, she definitely did not wake up in the middle of the night one time to find herself spooning Tobin only to pull her closer and fall back asleep.

Alex learns her way around Tobin’s kitchen, because Tobin can make a mean grilled cheese sandwich but that’s just about the only thing she can make. Tobin likes her eggs scrambled and ham and cheese in her omelette (but she’ll eat anything Alex puts in it as long as it’s not green). And when Perry is not staying over at her boyfriend’s apartment, Alex remembers that she likes her eggs over easy.

Tobin knows to get soy when Alex texts her to pick up milk on her way to Alex’s, and she buys Lucky Charms and Wheaties so Alex can pretend she’s eating healthy even if Tobin is the one who ends up eating the healthier cereal before it expires.

Tobin leaves an old UNC hoodie at Alex’s and Alex doesn’t return it the next time she goes over to Tobin’s. And if Alex wears it to sleep, it’s only because it was the closest hoodie within reach when she gets cold at night.

And sometimes they’re too tired to do anything and end up just watching TV on the couch until they head to bed. (Perry wants to tease them, but Alex leaves her Netflix account signed into Tobin’s Xbox, so she’ll refrain. For now.)

So maybe they’re kind of dating a little bit without actually dating, and okay, Alex kind of likes Tobin a fucking lot. But Tobin’s never asked where this was going, and Alex has only told Tobin she wasn’t going to date her about a hundred times, so Alex doesn’t exactly know how to bring it up.

 

+

 

Kelley thinks it’s fucking dumb that they can’t find the time to talk about it with the amount of time they spend together. She threatens to ask Tobin herself the next time Alex Skypes her with Tobin around.

Of course, Alex stops Skype-ing her when Tobin’s around.

 

+

 

Alex goes over to Tobin’s one night to find Tobin raiding her closet. It takes several seconds of staring at Tobin’s back (her backside, really) and deciphering her muffled responses to figure out that no, Tobin isn’t just really late (or really early) on her spring cleaning. Tobin’s company is hosting a charity banquet the next evening and all her dressy clothes are stored in the back of her closet.

Alex helps Tobin decide on a dress to wear and picks out a pair of heels that will match but won’t kill her feet by the end of the evening.

“I don’t even think I can walk in these,” Alex says, holding up a pair of five-inch pumps she finds at the bottom of a box.

“Perry made me get those,” Tobin says, rolling her eyes, “says it’ll give me a butt.”

( _They’ll probably look great with your killer legs, too_ , Alex doesn’t voice out.)

“Well, you definitely don’t want to be riding the subway in them,” she tells her sagely. She knows this from experience.

“I’m getting a ride.” Tobin shrugs. “But you’re right, I’m definitely not wearing those.”

“Oh, are you carpooling with a coworker?” Alex asks absentmindedly, continuing to rifle through the box.

“No,” Tobin says as she kneels down to start putting the vetoed selections back into the box. “My date’s picking me up.”

_Oh._

There’s a slight flare in Alex’s chest that she tries to tamp down in time so that the “Oh, I didn’t know you were dating” comes out as nonchalant as possible.

“I’m not, really,” Tobin says, back still to Alex, “I mean, it’s new. We’ll see.”

 

+

 

“You haven’t seen her, Kel! She’s all pretty and speaks with a sexy French accent, and ugh, what kind of name is Laure?”

“Uh, a French name?”

“That was a rhetorical question! Whose side are you on?”

“Yours! Geez, Al. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re not exactly lacking in the looks department either.”

“I’m just saying —”

“Look, I love you, but this is getting ridiculous. You’re a grown woman. Save yourself a lot of angst and just tell her how you feel.”

“What’s the point? She’s already seeing that pretty French girl.”

“It’s been like, one date —”

“Three.”

“Jesus, did you interrogate Tobin or something?”

“No, Perry told me.”

“Great, so you’re interrogating her sister.”

“She wanted to hang out. We’re friends.”

“Yeah? As your friend, did she tell you to get you to get your head out of your ass?”

“She’s a much _nicer_ friend.”

“Nice doesn’t get shit done.”

“ _Kel_ ,” Alex whines, stressing the last letter of her best friend’s nickname.

“ _What_ ,” Kelley responds, mimicking Alex’s tone, and Alex doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s rolling her eyes.

“A little support from my best friend would be great right now.”

“Excuse you, I’m nothing if not supportive. But if you need me to make it more obvious, then _listen up_ : You are Alex fucking Morgan. You were Homecoming Queen and class salutatorian. You graduated from NYU with a 3.9 GPA and you now live an awesome life in an awesome city with awesome friends. Not to mention, you have the best fucking friend in the world just a phone call away. Folks would kill to be you. _You are Alex fucking Morgan_. This girl’s got nothing on you.”

“You haven’t even seen her,” Alex insists stubbornly. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate what Kelley’s saying, but, well, she’s always been crap at taking compliments.

Thankfully, her best friend knows her well and doesn’t let it deter her.

“I don’t need to. I’m Team Morgan, remember? Always have been.”

“Thanks, Kel,” Alex says, smiling.

She really does have the best fucking friend in the world just a phone call away.

“Whatever, don’t get all mushy on me. That means Mama Morgan sixty percent of the time, unless you step up your pastry game.”

_Aaaand the moment’s gone._

Still, Alex feels a lot better when she hangs up.

There’s no one else Alex would rather have in her corner than her best friend.

(Even if it’s supposedly only forty percent of the time.)

 

+

 

Despite what Kelley thinks, Alex knows that admitting ( _finally_ admitting, Kelley had grumbled) her feelings for Tobin out loud doesn’t magically solve all her problems.

Tobin is still dating Laure, even if things don’t seem to be that serious (yet). Tobin’s been nothing but patient with her, has never once pushed her to say or do anything she’s not ready for. She owes it to Tobin to be completely sure that the jealousy she feels isn’t just her being selfish and wanting Tobin’s attention all to herself. Wanting Tobin’s affections all to herself.

Besides, it would be self-centered of her to think that Tobin would just stop dating Laure, and just — _whoa,_ Alex isn’t even sure she’s ready to be exclusive right now. They haven’t even gone on a real date yet. Or _shit_ , what if she is, and Tobin doesn’t want to be?

She knows she’s probably over-thinking this, but she can’t exactly talk to Tobin when she’s not even sure what to say. When she’s not even sure what she wants. Just because she’s realized that she’s been kind of dating Tobin Heath the past few months, it doesn’t mean that she’s all of a sudden ready to be _actually_ dating her like that.

Spending time with Tobin has been fun. A lot of fun. It’s Netflix marathons on the couch under a shared Snuggie over their laps, is Thursday nights at a quiet bar complaining about work and flirting over almost-empty glasses of whatever is on tap, is homemade breakfast on Saturday mornings.

Not to mention the great sex.

But it’s also pretty fucking domestic, and _they haven’t even gone on a real date yet._

So she ignores Tobin’s calls for a little bit. Says she’s too busy to hang out. Explaining that she needed a bit of space would have been the smart thing to do, but Alex isn’t really in the habit of doing the smart thing when it comes to stuff like this.

(Her disaster of a dating history is proof of that.)

And she doesn’t really want to hear all about Tobin’s dates with Laure.

(Or have to explain why she doesn’t want to hear it.)

 

+

 

Kelley thinks she’s being stupid. Alex knows this because, well:

Kelley O’Hara  
_You’re being stupid._

 

+

 

Kelley O’Hara  
_Are you waiting for Tobin to marry that French girl so you can fly to Paris or whatever and stop the wedding_

_This isn’t an episode of Friends_

_You are not Rachel Green_

_Tobin isn’t going to accidentally say your name at the altar_

 

+

 

Alex just wants to figure her shit out before dragging Tobin into it, she rationalizes.

Except figuring her shit out has to be put on hold because she comes home after work one day to find a pot of stew simmering on her stove and what looks to be her mother rifling through her fridge.

“Mom?”

“Oh, good, you’re home,” comes the muffled voice before her mother stands up, shutting the door to the fridge and turning around with a stern face and her hands on her hips. “Honestly, Alex, two cartons of expired milk, some Chinese takeout, a case of beer, and eggs? I raised you better than this.”

“There’s some bacon and Eggo waffles in the freezer,” Alex mumbles as she kicks off her flats.

 _And there’s cereal in the pantry, and even an apple somewhere_ , Alex thinks, but she doesn’t want to linger on this thread of discussion for too long _._ She’s a real adult who pays rent and bills and taxes and shit. She doesn’t need her mother coming in and criticizing the nutritional value of the contents in her kitchen.

Which brings her to the most important issue at hand:

“What are you doing here, Mom? How did you even get in?”

“Kelley told me about the spare key under the mat,” her mother explains with a casual wave of her hand before walking over to stir the pot on the stove. “I had to stop by the store _twice_ to pick up ingredients for dinner. I would have expected you to at least have some basic seasoning that’s not salt and pepper.”

Alex is going to kill Kelley.

And _oh god_ , how long has her mother been here? She does a quick survey of her apartment, noting the neatly stacked mail on her coffee table and the newly vacuumed carpet before her eyes settle on the closed door of her bedroom, trying to remember if she’d shut it on her way out earlier that day.

“What are you doing here, Mom?” Alex repeats.

“What, a mother can’t come and visit her daughter when she misses her?”

“I miss you too, Mom,” she says, and she does mean it.

“If you missed me, you’d call more often. Now go stir the pot so the bottom doesn’t burn.”

 

+

 

It takes her mother (of all people) to get her to snap out of it.

“So, how are things with Tobin?” Her mother asks halfway into dinner, and Alex almost chokes on a mouthful of stew.

“I don’t… know what… you’re talking about,” she says between coughs.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Alexandra,” her mother says. “I know you’ve been seeing each other since she moved in with her sister. Kerry, is it?”

“Perry, actually,” Alex says, and she winces at her inadvertent admission.

“Perry,” her mother echoes, a knowing look on her face, and _damn it,_ _yeah,_ she fell for that. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I don’t approve.”

Alex blinks, taken aback. “What? But you —”

“I thought Tobin was a nice girl, but clearly I was mistaken if she thinks herself too good to settle down with my daughter.”

“Tobin _is_ a nice girl,” Alex argues. “She’s been nothing but great, actually.”

“Oh? Then why has she been seeing another girl recently?”

Alex ignores the jealousy that flares up in her chest, because _Jesus fucking Christ. Does anything get past Pamela Morgan?_

“I… I’m the one who decided to keep it casual. I didn’t wait it to be serious.”

“I see.”

Alex rolls her eyes at the judgmental tone in her mother’s voice. “Yes, _Mom._ ”

“But you want to be serious now.”

“What?”

“You used the past tense,” her mother explains, and _ugh,_ she should have learned by now that nothing gets past her. “Have your feelings changed?”

“I…” Alex trails off, unsure how to answer. She slumps in her seat, leaning forward to rest her head in her hands.

“Elbows off the dinner table, Alexandra” comes almost automatically, and Alex obeys (albeit begrudgingly).

“I know that Tobin is a nice girl,” her mother says, clearing her throat, and Alex turns to look at her curiously. “I am very fond of her. But you are my daughter, and your happiness will always come first.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Alex mumbles, feeling herself get a little emotional — and a little guilty. She knows how to deal with a pushy mother, but this side she’s not too familiar with. Ever the Daddy’s Girl, she’s used to heart to hearts with her father.

Maybe she _has_ been too hard on her mother.

“I understand that you’ve grown up,” her mother continues, “and that you’ve made a life of your own here. I’m just trying to look out for you the only way I know.”

_Oh god. You’re a terrible daughter, Alex Morgan._

“I know it makes me come off as…” Her mom pauses, searching for the right word. “... _persistent_ , and I know it’s pushed you away on multiple occasions.” She clears her throat again, and Alex takes this as a sign that she’s not the only one who feels unequipped to deal with this conversation.

She hates that it makes her feel a little better knowing she’s not alone in her discomfort, and makes a mental note to call her mother more often.

“It’s okay, Mom,” she says, reaching for her mother’s hand, “I know you’re just looking out for me.”

“You hate coming home,” her mom states, and Alex feels another pang of guilt.

“I don’t _hate_ coming home,” she insists, and she almost cringes at the disbelieving look sent her way.

_You’re the worst daughter. No wonder Jeri’s the favorite._

“It’s understandable, given all the gentlemen I’ve tried to push you to. Perhaps... it is no longer hip to be set up by your parents.”

 _When has it ever been ‘hip’?_ Alex wants to say, but she keeps quiet. Keeping her smartass comments to herself is the least she could do.

“Anyway, if my disapproval is what it will take for you to pull your stubborn head out of that tush, then I will gladly disapprove of Tobin Heath for the rest of her life.”

_Wait, what?_

“What?” She blurts out, trying to wrap her head around the sudden one-eighty the conversation took because _seriously, what the actual fuck_.

“Don’t _what_ me, young lady. Kelley told me all about that theory of hers.”

“What. Theory.”

“About your need to overcompensate for not having more of a rebellious streak when you were younger. Honestly, Alexandra, I knew you were a late bloomer, but isn’t twenty-four a bit too old for these antics? If I had known that all those straight As and perfect attendances were going to give me _this_ much grief later —”

“ _Mom,_ ” Alex grits out, having already come up with four different ways to throttle her best friend. “Oh my god, I don’t — I’m not trying —” She stops, too infuriated to continue.

Here she was, feeling like a horrible daughter when this was all just some reverse psychology shit her mom cooked up (with Kelley, apparently). But as she searches her mind for a more plausible explanation than Kelley’s bullshit theory — even if a part of her thinks she doesn’t owe her mother any explanation — she comes up empty.

Tobin was supposed to be a weekend fling — Alex wasn’t about to start dating someone who lived on the other side of the country, after all. But Tobin had moved to New York on her own… and Alex still refused to date her. Because she was too stubborn to admit that her mother could have picked out someone perfect for her. Then she just got too comfortable with the arrangement they had… and now Tobin’s dating someone that isn’t her. When she finally wants Tobin to be dating her. And to be dating Tobin.

 _Boy_ , did she fuck up.

“You’re right,” she finally admits.

“What’s that, honey?”

Alex groans. “Please don’t make me repeat myself.” Her mother raises an eyebrow, looking at her expectantly, and she sighs. “ _You’re right,_ Mom.”

“And?”

“...And I did have my head firmly lodged up my ass —”

“Language.”

Alex rolls her eyes. “ _Mom._ ”

“And?”

“And… I'm sorry?”

This time, it's her mother who rolls her eyes. “I appreciate the apology, Alexandra, but that's not what I was waiting to hear.”

“...”

“Don't you have someone to call?”

_Oh._

_OH._

Alex scrambles out of her seat, hand slipping into her pocket to retrieve her phone. She swipes out of the locked screen and types in her passcode quickly, pulling up her Messages app with ease.

 _Hey,_ she types out. _Can we talk?_

“That doesn't sound like dialing,” her mother comments disapprovingly. “Kids these days with their texting. It's all so impersonal. Give her a call, Alexandra.”

“ _Right now?_ ” Alex asks incredulously. She imagines talking to Tobin in front of her mother — and yeah, that definitely does not sound appealing at all.

“Well, yes. I'm sure hearing your voice will cheer her up quite a bit.”

“Cheer her — Mom, I don't know what you're imagining, but this isn't about to be some kind of tearful reunion like in one of your soap operas. Like you said, Tobin’s been dating. She hasn't exactly been pining or anything.”

“Of course she hasn't. She's a grown woman, and quite the catch. I just meant she might need a bit of cheering up given how the past week has gone for her.”

“...The past week?”

“Oh dear. Have you spoken with Tobin lately at all?”

“...No?” Alex winces at the pointed look her mother gives her, properly chastised. “I've been… busy,” she defends weakly.

“Honey, Tobin flew back last week. I'm afraid Mrs. Powell isn't doing too well again.”

“Oh,” Alex says, feeling a new wave of guilt wash over her as she thinks of the number of calls she’s let go to voicemail, the number of times Tobin’s texted her to talk — or even to catch up — only for her to text back some flimsy excuse about being busy with work. “I’ve really fu — messed things up this time.”

Thankfully, her mother chooses not to comment on her slip up. “Things can be fixed, honey,” she says, giving her daughter’s hand a warm squeeze.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Alex admits.

“‘I’m sorry’ would be a good place to start.”

“Right.” She pulls her hand away and pushes her chair back, standing. “I’m going to…” She trails off, looking down at their half-eaten dinner sheepishly.

Her mother waves her away. “Go. I’ll clean up here.”

Alex nods gratefully, walking over to give her mother a quick kiss on the cheek before walking  towards her room.

“Alexandra,” her mom calls out, and she turns questioningly. “Be sure to come say good night before you wash up for bed.”

Alex smiles, nodding again.

“And be sure to _call_.”

 

+

 

Alex calls.

Tobin doesn’t pick up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me for not updating on Tumblr. D:


End file.
